Teen Prussia Diaries
by Taoroo
Summary: Prussia is living under the guardianship of "Old Fritz", King Frederick II of Prussia. These are a few tales of their relationship as Gilbert grows from a warrior into a gentleman. Title taken from Arkham's Teen Prussia Diaries, which were my inspiration
1. Chapter 1

_Thanks to Arkham Insanity for the inspiration. I don't watch Hetaila and so the characters are all from her work and the fanfictions I have read (Is it weird to read and write fanfiction from an anime you've never watched?). Hope you enjoy! Please feel free to comment too :3_

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><p>'Gilbert! What happened to you?'<p>

The young country winced at the sound of his guardian, the man's voice strained with worry. He wiped at his nose quickly, trying unsuccessfully to hide the evidence of blood there. Even if he had a rapidly swelling eye and his ripped clothing were enough to tell Old Fritz that the boy had been fighting. Again.

'Er, it's nothing, gramps,' Prussia turned away from the man but Frederick's hand fell on his shoulder and turned the boy around to face him.

The king bent down and took hold of Prussia's chin, turning it this way and that, surveying the damage. With surprise he saw his young ward's eyes were red from tears, not something that usually accompanied a fight with the warrior nation.

'Are you hurt much?' he asked in real concern.

Gilbert yanked his chin away, a blush appearing on his pale cheeks. 'No, just... I fell, that's all... on the stairs.'

'Hmm?' Frederick said, his eyebrow rising in disbelief. He reached down and took up one of Prussia's hands, inspecting the knuckles. 'Looks like you gave the stairs a good fight.'

The boy pulled his hand out of his guardian's grasp and hid them both behind his back. He bent his head, biting his lip and knowing he was in deep trouble.

'Well, Gilbert?' Old Fritz's voice was calm and gentle, but Prussia had been on the receiving end of enough lectures to know when the man was angry.

He stayed quiet for a while, trying to organise his thoughts. His body still rushed with the confused anger that had started all this and it was hard to concentrate.

Frederick waited patiently, knowing from experience that it was best to give the young nation time to think before he blurted out something in frustration that got him even deeper into trouble. He had no desire to punish Gilbert for more than he was already guilty of and pouring oil onto the boy's obvious anger would not help matters.

'Old man..?' Prussia said eventually, he blushed and ducked his head. 'What... what does _shwul_ mean?'

Old Fritz bit back a gasp, becoming very still as he observed the boy. 'Where did you hear that word?' he asked. 'What was the context?'

Prussia, on seeing that his guardian wasn't immediately angry at hearing the word, relaxed slightly. 'I know it means hot and sweaty and all that but it was the way he said it, like it meant something else, something mean,' he said desperately.

'Well, yes, it does,' Fritz said sighing and placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. 'Did someone call you that? Is that why you fought them?'

Gilbert dithered once more; obviously it wasn't the whole story. 'Well, he said-'

'Wait,' Frederick cut the boy off. 'Before that I want you to tell me who it was.'

'Will they be in trouble?' Gilbert asked. 'I already beat them up.'

'Yes, we'll get to _that_ later,' Fritz letting a little sternness enter his tone and seeing the boy wince. 'But after this I'm going to have to apologise to _someone's_ father, so tell me; who was it?'

After a brief struggle of conscience Gilbert sighed. 'Gustav Roth,' he muttered.

Fritz knew the name; it belonged to one of the aristocratic families of Prussia, a Junker, and one that had rebelled during his father's reign. There was bad blood between the houses of Roth and Hohenzollern and today's skirmish had most likely not helped matters. The boy's father, Otto, was a man with a nasty reputation.

'Very well, continue,' he said, trying to keep calm.

'He was trying to bully me,' Gilbert said defensively. 'But I listened to what you said; about not getting angry when someone says something bad about the awesome me-'

'So why was this different?'

Gilbert flushed red and chewed on his lip some more. 'They started saying things about... about you.'

Fritz wasn't surprised; he had suspected this from the moment the hateful word had been uttered. 'Did you understand what he was saying?'

With surprise Frederick saw that tears were welling up again in the boy's eyes. Gilbert evidently didn't trust himself to speak but shook his head silently. Obviously what had been said had affected the boy, enough to drive him to violence after almost a year of peaceful behaviour.

Gilbert sniffed, feeling wretched. He knew he had disappointed the old man by fighting when he had promised faithfully not to, and he felt stupid for not even really knowing why. The hate in Gustav's words had been enough. And now Fritz was going to spank him, he hated getting spanked! He was too old and far too awesome for that!

All of a sudden he felt himself being drawn up into a hug. His eyes widened in surprise and his cheeks reddened as Frederick squeezed him tight for a few precious moments before pulling away and looking down at the boy with a smile.

'Gilbert, I want to thank you. You defended my honour today. I know I've ordered you not to fight unless we're at war, and I don't condone what you did, but I want you to know that I understand your feelings entirely.'

Speechless Gilbert could only nod.

'Now, I don't ever want to hear you saying that word,' his guardian said. 'It's mean and ugly and hurtful. I think you know that already.'

Prussia nodded vigorously.

Frederick sighed. 'Go to your room, Gilbert. You're confined there for the rest of the week and you'll be writing a letter of apology to Gustav and his father.'

'I can't apologise to him!' the young nation sputtered indignantly.

'You can and you will,' Fritz said sternly. 'A gentleman always apologises when he has done wrong, even if it followed extreme provocation. Now no more arguing or it will be two weeks!'

The king span his young ward around and planted a firm swat on the boy's backside. 'That was for lying to me,' he said in amusement at Gilbert's shocked face, smiling as the nation composed himself and dashed off down the hall, glad no doubt to be getting away with such a light punishment. Then Frederick's smile faded away. He still had Roth to deal with.


	2. Chapter 2

_Part 2 of probably many snippets in the lives of Old Fritz and Gilbert. The characters belong to their creator. Otto and Gustav are mine but their family name is from a Prussian Junker family that tried to rebel against Frederick I – I thought that was quite appropriate! ^_^_

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><p>King Frederick made his way towards the palace entrance, meaning to take a carriage to the Roth household immediately to deal with the fallout of his ward's mischief. He seethed inwardly at the words that had been used, knowing that a child would not have invented such a hateful attack themselves. No, it was Roth himself that was to blame for this mess and it was up to Old Fritz to deal with it.<p>

He was stopped in his tracks at the front entrance of the palace as an ornate carriage drew up in front of it and a tall, stiffly suited nobleman stepped out.

Otto Roth regarded Fritz with a cool eye as he bowed to the king. 'Your majesty, I come to discuss a most grievous matter with you. It concerns your young brat.'

Fritz bit back any kind of angry retort and instead smiled in greeting. 'My dear lord Roth, welcome to my house. Please, come into my rooms and I will have the servants fetch you come wine.'

Roth merely pursed his lips in distaste at the man's invitation but let himself be led through the palace until the pair were in a richly decorated parlour. Good manners would not let him vent his anger until proper attention had been paid to formality.

'Please, sit,' Frederick gestured to a plush, red velvet chair, his smile still fixed in place.

'I would rather stand, your Majesty,' Roth said icily.

'Well then, to what do I have the pleasure of your company?' Fritz asked, taking both glasses of wine from a servant, who then left the room, and passing one to the man.

Roth ignored the wine, placing it on a side table before waving his arms in anger. 'My son was attacked by your brat, Gilbert not two hours ago,' he said angrily. 'Unprovoked, I might add.'

'So I am given to understand,' Fritz said calmly, taking a sip of his wine and cupping his free hand on the elbow of the other.

'I demand satisfaction for this insult, your Majesty,' Roth growled. 'Such violence cannot be tolerated.'

'I agree,' Frederick said calmly. 'Gilbert had been confined to his room for the next week.'

'You think that is enough?' Roth demanded. 'That boy's violent nature is-'

'I think it more than enough, considering the provocation,' Fritz said, his eyes fixed on the nobleman.

'My son is completely innocent in this,' Roth snapped. 'What lies has that boy been spreading?'

Frederick quietly set down his glass and patted his mouth with a lace napkin. 'Your grace, I am the sovereign of this country, am I not?'

'I... er... yes, your Majesty, of course,' Roth stammered, confused by the change in the direction of the conversation.

'And as your king I command complete obedience from my subjects, even the Junker. Is that not true?' Frederick was advancing slowly on the nobleman who began to step backwards in time with him.

'Naturally, Majesty,' Roth gulped.

'In fact, not following my commands is a treasonous act, punishable by death,' Fritz smiled winningly at the man, still walking forwards, his hands clasped casually behind his back.

'I...er...'

'Lord Roth, _sit down_.'

Roth jumped and staggered; the backs of his calves hitting the chair which he fell into.

Fritz's smile was unnerving. 'Remove your shirt, your Grace.'

The nobleman's eyes bulged and for a moment it looked like he might refuse. Then, with shaking hands, he reached up to his cravat and undid the bow there. As Roth's trembling fingers worked at the buttons, Frederick leant in, resting his hands on the arms of the chair, his legs pushing between the noble's own. Roth pressed himself back as far as he could into the chair, visibly trembling.

'Such strange things, rumours,' he murmured into Otto's ear, causing the man to blush more furiously than he was before, although he kept his eyes fixed on his task. 'Even without a person's apparent intention they spread little wings and fly into ears you didn't even know were listening.'

Otto's mouth was dry and he shivered as the last button came away. He could find no words to respond to the king, sensing the anger that the man exuded despite his calm exterior.

'Unbuckle your breeches, lord Roth.'

'Your Majesty!'

Old Fritz cocked an eyebrow at the man, the threat unspoken.

Roth knew he was trapped. Calling for help here would do him no good. Even if the palace guard were to come they would surely side with their king. His eyes fluttered closed in defeat. 'Yes, your Majesty,' he whispered, unbuckling the belt and reaching down for the buttons of his trouser-flap. He could feel tears of frustration and fear pressing at the back of his eyes and his vision misted as his hands worked.

Frederick leaned in again, his breath warm on the man's ear as he spoke. 'Such nasty, spiteful little things, rumours,' he repeated, his words hard for Roth to hear over his own pounding heartbeat. 'So I am sure that you are glad that they are just that... rumours.'

The king pushed away, returning to his glass and taking a sip. He looked over at the nobleman who had stopped what he was doing and was staring at Fritz in bewilderment. 'Oh do put your clothes back on, Roth, it's embarrassing,' he said coolly. 'Who knows what people would say; a family man such as yourself in such a state of undress, in the king's apartments no less.'

Roth gaped at Frederick for a second and then hastily began to redress, his face flaming with mortification.

Old Fritz turned away, apparently bored of his guest as he walked to a window and looked out at the scene.

'Such petty things,' he said, 'rumours, I mean. They can start just about anywhere, about anyone. The only way to defeat them is to stop it at its source.'

Otto stood, his body still shaking. He'd got the message in the king's words, and the threat. No one had seen him enter the parlour with the king but he was certain that it would not stop the gossip mill turning, if that was King Frederick's wish.

'I must return home, your Majesty,' he said, bowing to the king's back. 'It seems my son and I have a lot to talk about.'

Fritz nodded his head, not even turning from his position to see the man out. Once the door had shut behind the nobleman he broke into a calm little smile.


	3. Chapter 3

_Part three and an OC character is introduced. I thought it would be fun for Prussia to have a younger brother type to inevitably get into trouble with! The principality of __Neuchâtel was under the control of King Frederick II (hooray for Wikipedia!) and is one of the cantons - the Swiss equivalent of a county - that made up Switzerland at the time._

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><p>Prussia and Frederick were taking their morning meal in one of the small dining rooms of the palace that overlooked the vineyards and the slope down towards the great fountain.<p>

'Gilbert, are you ready for the day's lessons?' Old Fritz asked. It was a morning routine; the king would ask the young nation this question and the boy would answer the same each time. Today was a Thursday and so he asked the question in French.

'Do I have to take those stupid things?' Gilbert replied in halting French, his grammar as poor as his manners.

Fritz smiled indulgently at the boy, whom he knew hated any learning that didn't involve a weapon or war. 'You know that you do,' he said. 'Well?'

Gilbert harrumphed, pushing his breakfast around his plate, his appetite gone with the prospect of lessons. When he felt Frederick's stare on him he sat up a little straighter and replied. 'Yes, sir, I've done all my homework,' he said in a sing-song voice.

'Good,' Fritz said, taking a sip of water before returning to his meal. 'In that case you will be glad to hear that I have informed your tutors that you shall not be at your lessons today. Your cousin from Switzerland is coming for a visit and, as I am too busy to see to him, I want you to take responsibility for his care.'

Gilbert didn't react for a moment, lost in translation, but when he reached the end of the sentence his face broke into a wide grin. 'You mean, no school?' he asked in excitement.

'Just for today, yes,' Frederick said. 'Tomorrow, once he is settled in, Lukas shall join you in your studies.'

'How long is he staying?' Gilbert asked, even the prospect of lessons seemed a little less dull if there was someone to share them with.

'A month,' Fritz said, finishing his food and patting his mouth with a napkin. 'Monsieur Zwingli is busy I understand and wants Lukas out of the way for a while.'

Prussia pursed his lips, his happiness quickly fading at the thought of entertaining the young canton of Neuchâtel for a whole month. He'd last seen the boy at Fritz's coronation and he had seemed rather shy, only appearing around twelve or thirteen years old in comparison to Gilbert's awesome sixteen.

'Don't worry,_ mon gamin_,' Fritz smiled, guessing the nation's concern. 'Haven't you said before how you miss your younger brother? You can play the older brother again.'

'Humf,' Prussia sighed. 'Ludie was such a bother.'

Frederick chuckled, rising from his place. 'Lukas will arrive at noon,' he said, 'I have work to do. Please keep yourself occupied until then.'

Lukas Junod stepped out of the carriage and stared up at the entrance of the Sanssouci palace as the servants quietly gathered his luggage to take to his room.

'Pretty awesome, isn't it?' Gilbert said, appearing beside the boy and making him jump.

'I... uh,' the boy blushed before collecting himself. 'I was just thinking how much _more_ awesome le Château de Neuchâtel is,' he said, raising his chin stubbornly.

It was Prussia's turn to turn pink but this time it was with suppressed anger. Who did the kid think he was, disrespecting Prussia's awesome house like that! Lukas was tall for his years, with blonde hair and green eyes like his older brother Switzerland, although the former was curled and long enough to tie back, whilst the eyes were a darker shade of green. He wore the same style of clothing as the older nation but his shirt-sleeves were more frilled and the long waistcoat was more heavily embroidered. Looking down, the boy's shoes were very shiny indeed. Prussia started to get a bad feeling that the canton's stay would be no fun at all.

'I'll show you to your room,' Gilbert grated through clenched teeth, knowing that any nearby servants would report and incivility to the king.

As they walked though the palace Prussia was pleased to see that Lukas was trying hard not to show how impressed he was at the opulence and style of the rooms. The canton would be straining to see some new piece of artwork or fine masonry as they passed it but would then notice Gilbert watching him and return his expression back to that of boredom.

Gilbert had saved the best til last however and stopped at a doorway, flinging it open to reveal the bedroom inside.

Lukas' resolve broke down at this point. '_Mon dieu_!' he exclaimed, rushing forwards to stare at the intricately carved bedposts and the fine gold chandelier. '_C'est tres beau_!' He stopped turning back to Prussia, shamefaced. 'I'm sorry, my brother told me; I must speak German, yes?'

Gilbert grinned. 'Well today is Thursday so we can speak French.'

'You speak different languages for different days?' the young canton asked, wondering just where his brother had sent him.

Prussia kicked at the carpet, his hands pushed into his breeches pockets. 'Yeah, tomorrow it's Spanish then we take Saturday off. Sunday of course is Latin, Monday is English, Tuesday is Italian and Wednesday is Polish and Greek.'

Lukas' face fell. 'I don't know much of any of those,' he confessed.

Gilbert placed a companionable hand around the young boy's shoulders. 'Don't worry, neither do I. We'll mostly be in lessons tomorrow anyway.'

'Lessons?'

'Yeah,' Gilbert made a face, 'Latin, Mathematic and Philosophy. Have you heard of Voltaire?'

'_Non_, cousin.'

'Trust me, you'll hear plenty about him soon enough.' Pussia said, walking the boy over to another door in his room. 'But that's tomorrow, today we have... this!'

The door opened out into a large playroom, hardly much used by Prussia now that he was far too awesome for most of the toys. It was intended for the children of the king, but since Frederick had none, Prussia was given free reign.

Neuchâtel's eyes were as wide as saucepans as he took in the scene. 'I may play with all of these?' he asked in a husky voice.

Prussia's face split into a wide grin.

The rest of the morning was spent in riotous play. Prussia and Neuchâtel created a massive fort out of the furniture and took turns in defending it, the younger canton soon losing his inhibitions in the wake of Gilbert's energetic nature. By afternoon tea the pair were tired of the game and Prussia promised his cousin that they would explore the grounds after their tea.

Frederick was glad to see his nation and principality getting on so well at the evening meal together and was glad of his decision to let the young canton stay. They spent the first courses of the meal telling the king what they had done that day, babbling excitedly about the great fountain, and the Chinese House, and the horses in the stables. Since French was his first language, Lukas was doing well and helping his older cousin with the more tricky words.

'Gilbert, did you show Lukas your work for tomorrow,' Frederick asked over the dessert once all the day's events had been talked about.

Prussia's face fell, he'd forgotten about his lessons. '_Désolé_,_ monsieur_,_ j'oublier_.'

Fritz smiled benevolently. 'Then I think you should spend some time after your dinner introducing our young guest to his studies.'

'_Oui_,_ pépé_,' Prussia said, making a face. So much for his idea of showing Lukas the kitchens that night.

The next morning Prussia knocked on the door of Neuchâtel's room to have it opened eventually by a very sleepy looking canton. He had one shoe in his hand and his cravat was untied.

'_Buenos días, primo_!' Gilbert said sunnily; he had always been an early riser and as such enjoyed teasing those that weren't.

'Huh?' Lukas' brow creased in confusion and then he remembered. 'Oh... er... _buenos dias, _Gilbert.'

'Come on, we'll be late for breakfast,' Gilbert said, helping the boy find his other shoe and tying his cravat for him, keeping up the Spanish as they made their way down to the dining room.

Frederick was already seated when the two boys entered. He cocked an eyebrow at the pair which Prussia interpreted well.

'_Lo siento_, _jefa_,' he said as they took their seats. 'I could not find my shoes.'

'I've told you to keep your room tidy, Gilbert,' Fritz said sternly. 'You can't expect the maids to clean up after you all the time.'

'_Sí, señor_,' Prussia said, dipping his head meekly.

Lukas could only partly understand the conversation but knew enough that the older boy had covered for him.

'_Su majestad_-' he began but Fritz raised a hand.

'"Sir" will do in private, Lukas,' he said with a smile. He looked across at Prussia with mock sternness. 'Even if there are some here who do not even mind such small manners.'

Prussia quirked a smile at the old man, knowing the king quite liked the informality.

Lukas nodded and then pressed on. '_Señor_, we were late to breakfast because I did not get ready in time,' he managed in broken Spanish, ignoring Gilbert's attempts, through faces and a kick under the table, to stop him.

'Thank you for your honesty, Lukas,' Fritz said and then turned his attention to Prussia. 'Gilbert, you know I do not like lying, even if it is to protect your cousin.'

The nation coloured at the admonishment. '_Si, __señor_,' he said quietly.

Frederick sighed. 'I'll let it slide this time, _pillo_, but do not do it again.'

'_Si, __señor_,' Prussia said, shooting Lukas a look of irritation.

'Try to be on time tomorrow, _jovenisto_,' Frederick said and Neuchâtel nodded vigorously in reply.

'What did you do that for?' Prussia demanded as the pair made their way down the hall to their study room after they had excused themselves from the table.

'Brother Switzerland never lets me lie,' Lukas said defiantly. 'It's always worse for me than telling the truth from the start.'

'Well it was almost worse for my backside!' Gilbert said hotly. 'You should have just kept quiet!'

'I didn't ask you to cover for me!'

'Fine,' Prussia said, walking into the school room. 'I won't from now on. You're on your own, cousin.'

The first lesson of the day was Latin which was spent in stony silence. Gilbert soon learnt that even though the canton was younger that him his grasp of Latin grammar was better, earning him words of praise from the tutor who otherwise found his job quite frustrating.

Prussia sat and silently stewed, getting more and more angry as the lesson went on. When they moved on to mathematics things were not much better for the pair. Near the end their tutor was called away and so the boys were left to solve problems on their own.

'Gilbert,' Lukas hissed after a while. When the nation didn't respond he repeated his name.

'Be quiet,' Prussia snapped the reply. 'I'm trying to solve this problem.'

'But Gilbert, I have to go.'

'Then go!'

'But Gilbert,' Neuchâtel said in no little distress. 'I don't know the way to the bathroom.'

'Not my problem,' Gilbert said, returning to his work and ignoring the boy.

'Fine!' Lukas stood up and left the classroom.

Prussia sighed, ignoring the nagging feeling of responsibility and focusing on his work.

A little while later the mathematic tutor returned.

'Young master, where is your cousin?' he asked.

Prussia shrugged. 'He went to the bathroom.'

'How long has he been gone?'

Gilbert looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room and saw that it had been at least twenty minutes since the young canton had stormed out.

'I'll... er... I'll go and find him,' he said, getting up and rushing out of the room.

It took a little while to find the boy. Gilbert first went to the canton's room but seeing no sign of him began to search the palace in earnest. As he was walking along the corridor he spotted Lukas coming the other way.

'Gilbert!' the younger boy cried in greeting, his face strained with worry.

'Lukas, where have you been?' Prussia demanded.

'Looking for a bathroom, Gilbert, I really need to go!'

'Come on then,' Prussia took the boy's arm but the canton pulled back. 'No, Gilbert, I mean, I need to go _right now_!'

'_Oh scheiβe_,' Gilbert pulled the boy into a room on their left which was an empty parlour, and pushed the boy to one of the high potted plants in the corner. 'Go on then.'

'But Gilbert, what if someone comes?' Lukas protested.

'I'll keep a lookout,' Prussia promised, putting his ear to the closed door. 'Hurry up! I thought you were desperate?'

He heard clothes being adjusted behind him and then the sound of a need being satisfied into the large plant pot accompanied by a small sigh from its user. Prussia cracked open the door and saw that the coast was clear. Behind him Lukas finished repositioning his clothes.

'Come on,' Prussia said, snatching the boy's hand once more. 'We're going to be in trouble if we stay too much longer!'

Their tutor was not impressed when the boys made their way back into his class, which had finished in their absence. He gave them both extra homework to do before handing the pair over to the Philosophy tutor, who had been waiting as well.

Prussia was angry at Lukas again for giving him extra work to do and now the canton was cross with his cousin for getting him into trouble. The pair were sullenly silent as the philosophy tutor did his best to teach them the newest theories of Voltaire.

As the lesson went on Prussia noticed that Lukas was tapping his heel against the leg of his chair. The motion was silent and hidden from the tutor's eyes but it distracted Gilbert so much that he was called to pay attention by their tutor. When the man turned to write something on the board Prussia took his chance and leant over to whisper to the boy.

'Would you stop that!'

'Huh? What?' Neuchâtel replied, his leg still swinging.

'Swinging your _verdammt_ leg!' Prussia hissed.

'Mater Gilbert, stop trying to distract master Lukas if you please,' the voice of the tutor cut into their conversation.

Prussia jumped to his feet, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy. 'But he was-!' he began, but the man cut him off.

'Do I have to inform his Majesty of this unruly behaviour?'

Prussia paled slightly and sank back down into his chair instantly. 'No sir, sorry, sir.' He mumbled; his head back down on his work.

'Phew,' Lukas said when their lessons were done and the pair were heading back into their shared parlour before dinner. The young canton's temper had cooled under the boredom of the lesson and seemed to have forgotten the earlier incidents. He looked sidelong at Prussia and commented, 'If I were back home and had acted that way my tutors would have taken a birch to me!'

Prussia snorted, his temper still bubbling at all the day's injustices against his awesome self. 'The old geezer got rid of corporal punishment in schools.'

'Really?' Lukas asked, impressed. He'd only received the birch once for a misdemeanour and was in constant fear from his tutors of ever receiving it again.

Gilbert nodded sullenly. 'Old Fritz thinks that if a kid needs punishing then it should be the parents that do it.'

'That's why you were so bothered by Monsieur Frederick hearing of your disobedience?' Lukas asked.

Gilbert didn't reply. They reached the parlour and he flung himself down on a chaise lounge to read, trying to ignore the boy who stood uncertainly before him.

'Gilbert, are we not going to see the horses?' Lukas asked.

The nation grunted sourly. 'Don't feel like it,' he said.

'But Gilbert-'

'Leave me alone would you?' Prussia snapped. 'You've gotten me into enough trouble today. Just go somewhere else. Verpiss dich!'

Neuchâtel's temper began to rise at the older boy's dismissive tone. 'Hmph, big brother was right, you are a bad-mouthed brat!'

'What did you say, Saubär?' Prussia asked indignantly, closing his book and leaning forwards to glare at the boy.

Lukas was slightly scared by the nation's reaction and this only made him more irritable. '_Frère_ Basch says you're an unruly brat and one day you're going to push King Frederick too far and he'll run away again. Just like before!'

Prussia erupted from the couch, falling onto Lukas and pummelling the boy. Neuchâtel fought back and the pair rolled on the carpets, knocking into a vase which fell and smashed on the floor. A maid came running in and seeing the commotion fled to find her master.

Lukas and Gilbert ignored the noise, locked in battle, neither side gaining an upper hand. Even though Lukas was younger he was tall for his age and was as well versed in fighting as his cousin. Eventually Gilbert managed to get a hold of the boy's arm and twist it round, pinning him face forwards on the ground.

'**Gilbert Beilschmidt!**'

Prussia instantly jumped up, his mouth going dry as he heard the voice of his guardian. As Lukas got shakily to his feet the King strode into the room and stood in front of the pair, his hands on his hips and his eyes blazing in anger.


	4. Chapter 4

_Ok, spanking in this chapter (as if you hadn't guessed!). Prussia and Lukas get their comeuppance at the hands of Old Fritz. Also entitled: "I suck at chapter titles!"  
><em>

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><p>'What is the meaning of this?' King Frederick demanded angrily and then held up a hand as both parties began to talk at once.<p>

'You first, Lukas.'

'But, old man-!' Gilbert tried to protest. One of his eyes was blackening and his tunic was ripped, his appearance only serving to anger the king more.

'You'll have your turn, _böse_,' Frederick said sternly. 'Lukas? You may speak in French if it is easier for you.'

'Prussia's been bothering me all day!' Lukas said petulantly around a swollen lip. 'He wouldn't show me to the bathroom, then I got lost and we got extra homework for taking so long. Then he shouted at me for no reason-'

'That's not true!' Gilbert shouted unable to bear the accusations silently any longer.

Frederick sighed and grabbed a hold of Gilbert's upper arm, turning him and delivering six very hard swats to his backside. 'Do not interrupt again, Gilbert,' he ordered as the young nation turned red with embarrassment. 'Carry on, Lukas.'

'We came here then Gilbert wouldn't take me to see the horses like he promised,' Neuchâtel said, his eyes wide after seeing the king's outburst. 'Then he hit me.'

'Why did he hit you?'

'I... he...' Lukas foundered, knowing that what he had said would most likely evoke anger from the king. He bit his lip and stared down at the ground, finding no words for an answer.

Frederick breathed heavily out of his nose and turned to his older ward. 'Very well... Gilbert?'

Gilbert told his version of events, uninterrupted by his cousin who had seen what good that would do. When he came to what had been said by Lukas in the parlour he too had trouble finding the words.

'What did he say?' Frederick pushed, but the boy would not answer, merely shaking his head mutely. Prussia knew that what the young canton had said would make his boss angry and, although he had been angry at his cousin that had now faded and he did not wish any more punishment on him than what was already coming.

Eventually both boys had told their tale and repeated it again until Frederick was satisfied that he had the whole truth, except what Lukas had said to drive Prussia over the edge. Neither country had told the king about the plant pot but there was plenty enough already for them to know that they were in a lot of trouble. During the explanation both boys had come to realise each other's point of view and were feeling thoroughly ashamed of themselves.

'Gilbert, I want you to go to my study and wait for me there,' Frederick said quietly after giving the boys enough time to contemplate their actions in silence. 'Your cousin and I need to talk in his room a while first.'

Prussia was about to protest the difference in the levels of punishments, knowing that all Lukas had waiting for him was a hand spanking. For him the study meant only one thing and that was the cane that rested in the top drawer of the sovereign's desk. But Gilbert knew that he was more to blame for the day's disastrous events than his cousin; he was older and deserved a harsher punishment than the boy who was already looking white with worry. So instead of arguing he nodded bravely, squeaked a "yessir" and fled the room.

The door to Frederick's study creaked open and the young nation walked in, casting a jaded look at the desk before taking a deep breath and walking across the carpeted floor and around to its front. He reached down, opening the top drawer and taking out the cane that rested there, feeling its supple weight and trying not to imagine what the object would do when struck against his flesh. He gave an experimental flick through the air and couldn't help but admire the brutal cutting noise it made. It reminded him very much of the riding crop that had been his weapon of choice back in the times when he had lived under the care of Germania. A leather crop was probably preferable to the cold wooden cane but he knew from sorry experience that neither was pleasant to be on the receiving end of. He put the cane down on the tabletop and stepped away from it, beginning to pace the king's study in tense anticipation.

Was what Neuchâtel said true, he wondered? King Frederick had tried to abandon his nation once before, when he was much younger during the reign of his father, but the thought of such a loss now that the man was king was hard for Prussia to comprehend. He remembered how he had felt at that time, even with the king's father alive he had felt the abandonment keenly, taking desertion on a personal level. Would his actions cause his guardian to change his mind, even abdicate the throne all together? Prussia shivered, clutching himself at the thought, hoping for some comfort in the action. Was he so terrible that the better option was to leave him behind? Perhaps he wasn't as awesome as he thought...

The door to the study opened and Frederick entered.

'Gilbert?'

The man's voice was quiet, the stern anger that was usually in it at such times was missing and the king seemed genuinely concerned as he approached the nation.

'Gilbert, you're in the dark.'

Prussia looked up and saw that the king was shrouded in shadow. He had neglected to light the oil lamp and had been too caught up in his thoughts to notice. Old Fritz crossed the room to the table and lit the lamp, turning back to stare with concern at the boy.

'Lukas told me what he said to you,' he said, his eyes heavy with concern. One shoulder of his jacket was stained darker than the other, suggesting that the young canton had been repentant of his crimes and that the king had spent some time comforting him afterwards.

A lump rose in Prussia's throat and he could not trust himself to speak, he dropped his gaze from the man and squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heaving.

'Gilbert?' Fritz walked over and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.

Prussia gave in, dropping his head forwards against his guardian's chest and resting it there, his shoulders heaving in silent sobs.

Frederick drew the young nation into a hug, holding the boy's head in his hand and resting his own head on the boy and squeezing tight. 'Gilbert, I will never leave you, I promise,' he said solemnly. 'I was young and scared, and I ran from my responsibilities. I thought that I was unworthy of ruling a nation as awesome as you.'

Gilbert's breath hitched in a particularly deep sob at the king's deliberate use of his favourite word and he clutched the king's sleeve for comfort.

'I know now that it is impossible to run from your destiny,' Frederick said. 'I learnt it the hard way; I... I lost a... good friend. I will _never_ leave you again. I promise.' He pushed the young nation to arms length and looked down at him, deep affection in his eyes. 'Do you understand?'

Prussia sniffed, nodding, still avoiding the king's gaze. 'Yessir,' he mumbled, wiping his eyes and running nose against a sleeve.

'Good,' Frederick cupped the back of the nation's neck and smiled at him for a moment longer; then his expression became hard. 'Gilbert Beilschmidt, I expected better from you today!'

Prussia had no strength to argue this, knowing that it was true; so merely hung his head and took the scolding.

'I left you in charge of your younger cousin and you treated him with the worst of bad manners,' Frederick continued. 'Your attitude was unbecoming of a gentleman, as was your language.' Prussia's eyes widened at this, he'd forgotten his foul tongue when dealing with his cousin, but of course the boy had told his king everything that had been said. 'You acted violently to Lukas, despite my frequent warnings on the subject,' Fritz continued. 'On top of that you destroyed an expensive object of art during your roughhousing. What do you think is a suitable punishment for all of this?'

Prussia looked up at his king and gave the man a weak smile. 'Well, you already gave me a spanking...'

'That was for disrespect and you know it,' Frederick said evenly.

Gilbert rubbed his arm, trying desperately to think of a way out of his mess. Then he sighed, dropping his hands in defeat. 'I'm sorry, sir,' he said. 'I acted like an unawesome brat. I guess... I should be punished.'

Old Fritz nodded curtly. 'And how should you be punished?' Frederick knew that the boy hated saying what was going to happen to him, even as much as when it actually happened.

Gilbert dithered, shifting uncomfortably. 'I should... get the cane?' he asked, almost as if he didn't know the answer to that question. He avoided looking at the desk, knowing that the hated object was already there and trying silently to will it out of existence.

Frederick said nothing, simply turning Prussia and walking him to the edge of the carpet before taking up the cane and holding it expectantly in his hands.

The study carpet ended a few feet from the desk's edge and Prussia knew from sorry experience what to do next. With his feet still on the rug he leant forwards, holding the edge of the desk, an action which bent him almost at right angles at the waist, exposing his backside for punishment. He dropped his head beneath his hands, an action which had the disadvantage of enabling him to see the king's legs as the man walked around to stand behind and just to the left of him. He licked his dry lips and tried not to flinch as the king took hold of his long waistcoat and pulled it over his back to expose his breeches. He felt the light tap of the cane resting on his backside and then leave again before hearing the swish and crack of it landing rapidly against it once more. It took a moment for the pain to reach him and when it did he clenched his teeth tight, trying to ignore the deep burn of the stripe against the roundest part of his flesh.

A few seconds passed as he got his breathing in order. He took a deep breath.

'One.'

Frederick paused, tapping the cane lightly against his palm. 'What day is it, Gilbert?' he asked patiently.

Prussia cursed inwardly. 'Uno,' he corrected, squeezing his eyes shut in expectation.

SWISH... CRACK!

Gilbert grunted and took another breath. 'Dos,' he hissed. The second stroke had landed just below the first, which was already throbbing in time with his racing heartbeat.

SWISH... CRACK!

'Tres!'

SWISH... CRACK!

'Cuatro!' Prussia's voice broke a little and he balled his hands up into fists, pushing them against the table.

SWISH... CRACK!

'Cinco!'

SWISH... CRACK!

Prussia took a little longer to compose himself, drawing in two great, shuddering breaths as the cane striped against his sit-spots. Tears were leaking down his face and his breath was ragged as he drew in breath to say the word.

'Seis,' he whispered, trying hard not to fall against the tabletop. He had always been strangely fascinated by the way he could withstand a battle and war without a hint of fear of pain but the second he was in this position all courage and tolerance of it seemed to desert him. Now he prayed that the king was done, although his heart told him that six strokes was not nearly enough for all the mischief he had wrought that day.

'That was for your incivility,' Frederick said from behind him, confirming his fears. 'Stand up, Gilbert.'

With great care Gilbert straightened, fighting the urge to massage his aching rear, and faced the king.

Frederick nodded and then took hold of an armless chair, pulling it towards him and sitting down. 'Drop your breeches and put yourself over my lap,' he instructed calmly.

Prussia flushed a deep red. He hadn't been spanked in this way for years, not since he had last...

'That's right,' Frederick said. 'I told you that so long as you chose to fight other people outside of war and act like a barbarian child that you would be punished as one,' he gestured to his lap. 'I don't think I need repeat myself?' he said levelly.

Gulping back his dissent, Gilbert quickly unbuttoned his breeches and lowered himself over his king's lap, pushing the trousers down only a little and then balancing himself awkwardly with his fingertips which reached the floor.

Frederick snorted in amusement at the boy's vain attempt at modesty and gripped the top of the breeches, pulling them down to Prussia's knees while at the same time catching hold of Gilbert's hand which came up in protest and pinning it to his back.

'This is for fighting, Gilbert,' he said, raising his hand in the air and bringing it down smartly on the boy's already sore, striped bottom.

Gilbert cried out softly at the first few strokes and then with more enthusiasm as Old Frtiz settled into a rhythm. Frederick never spanked to a particular number, focusing instead on an exact hue and level of repentance in his ward's cries. This time it didn't take long for Gilbert to be crying tears of real remorse, begging his guardian to stop and promising better behaviour in the future. He kicked his legs at each stroke, yelping and crying as the king's hand fell again and again. Frederick didn't stop until the boy's backside was a deep crimson and Gilbert had collapsed over the king, sobbing deeply.

'I'm sorry!' Prussia sobbed, 'I'm sorry!'

Frederick replaced Gilbert's breeches and then pulled the boy into another hug. 'I know, _kleiner Schlingel_, I know.'

After Prussia had cried himself out he quickly scrambled off of Frederick's lap and stood before him, his hands clasped together behind his back to avoid the impulse to rub. Old Fritz smiled and stood, taking Gilbert's chin and raising it until the red eyes met light blue.

'I love you, _Kleiner_,' Fritz said with a smile.

Prussia flushed a deep red but he muttered almost inaudibly. 'Yeah, I love you too, _alter Speiβer_.'

Frederich snorted, taking the insult in good humour and ruffling the boy's silver hair. 'You'll take your dinner in your room tonight,' he said. 'I'll have the maids bring it to you.'

'Umm,' Prussia said and then stopped, blushing again.

'What is it?'

'Could I... could I take our dinner to Lukas' room?' Gilbert asked, staring steadfastly at his feet.

Old Fritz smiled, glad of his ward's progress. 'Yes, you may. I'll have the maid bring both of your meals to you.'

'Thanks, old man,' Prussia said, taking one final sniff and quickly leaving the room, his gait a little stiff as he tried to find a pace that wouldn't aggravate the deep burning in his rear.

Lukas lay on his bed, clutching at a pillow which was quickly turning damp with a fresh bout of tears. He had taken a long while gradually stripping from his day clothes after his long and painful "talk" with the king, and now lay with only a simple nightshirt covering him. He failed to hear the gentle knock at his door in his misery.

'Lukas?'

The young boy jumped, quickly kneeling up in his bed and pulling his nightshirt below his knees, blushing deeply. '_Zut_! What are you doing here? _Casse toi_!'

Prussia tutted, putting down the tray that carried their dinner and leaning against one of the boy's bedposts, his arms folded nonchalantly. 'That's a very naughty mouth you have, _Vetterling_.'

'Don't call me that, _cochon_!' Lukas snapped, dashing tears from his eyes angrily. 'I got spanked because of you!'

Prussia chuckled. 'You think _I_ didn't get spanked because of _you_?'

'_Conneries_!_ C'est vraiment de ta faute_!' Lukas said heatedly, throwing a cushion at the older boy.

'That's true,' Prussia said, catching the pillow and putting it down neatly on the bed. 'Are you hungry?'

Lucas was both confused and enraged by the nation's attitude, his face turned red and he thumped his fists down on the mattress. 'Don't ignore me!' he shouted.

'Who could ignore you?' Prussia asked, sticking a finger in his ear and twisting dramatically. 'Look, what's done is done, there's no use getting worked up about it. But if you carry on being a brat the old man is going to come and beat your ass again.'

Neuchâtel calmed down, the prospect of another spanking cooling his temper slightly. As he contemplated this, Prussia crossed to the table where their dinner rested and picked up a cold leg of chicken, biting into it hungrily.

Lukas licked his lips and scooted forwards on the bed a little. 'Did _Monsieur_ really spank you?' he asked suspiciously, not seeing any sign of pain or discomfort in the older nation.

Prussia grinned, his canines showing. 'Yup, with a cane too!'

Lukas' eyes widened in horror, he was sure a cane would hurt much worse than the birches did. He noticed that Gilbert's eyes were still slightly red-rimmed and his cheeks were more puffy than usual and his heart twinged with remorse.

'Did it hurt?' he whispered.

'Nah,' Prussia took another bite of the chicken and spoke around the mouthful. 'Old geezer's done it hundreds of times.'

'Really?'

Gilbert nodded, finishing the chicken and throwing the bone into the fireplace. 'Look,' he said, 'I'm sorry I was such an _Arsch_ today,' he tossed over a roll to the boy. 'Forgive me?'

Lukas was not one to bear a grudge, particularly once an apology had been made, he smiled back at the incorrigible nation and nodded in agreement, taking a bite out of the soft, still-warm loaf.

All was well again in the Hohenzollern house and peace followed the next few days – well, as peaceful as a house occupied by two young nations could be. But the pair were able to stay in their boss's good graces, at least for a little while.


	5. Chapter 5

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

The morning had started bright and unexpectedly warm. Prussia and his cousin Neuchâtel had woken reluctantly from their beds where blankets had been kicked off long before thanks to an equally clammy and uncomfortable night. They arrived slightly late to their shared breakfast table with the King but found that Fritz was later even than they.

Gilbert's boss and mentor strode in a few minutes after the two boys had taken their seats, his face filled with a harried expression.

'My apologies, boys,' he said in English, as it happened to be a Monday, 'I have some rather pressing duties to complete today so I shall not be joining you for breakfast.'

'Good morning, Sir,' Neuchâtel said dutifully whereas his cousin settled for, 'Good morning, Gramps.'

Old Fritz rolled his eyes benevolently at his charge. 'Whatever language you use you always manage to find the most inappropriate terms of address,' he half scolded. 'I trust you shall both do well in your lessons today.'

'Can we go swimming after?' Prussia asked hopefully.

The king smiled and nodded. 'Once all your lessons are completed you may go for a short swim in the lake before supper.'

'Will you be joining us for supper, Sir?' Lukas asked. He quite enjoyed the old king's company and the stories he told, far removed from the war-stories of his older brother Vash.

Frederik shook his head. 'egrettably I fear I shall be too busy, dear boy. But perhaps tomorrow I shall have this business sorted out.'

With that the king took his leave of the pair, leaving them to eat their breakfast and head to their lessons alone.

~TPD~

Shortly before lunch time their tutor gave a sigh, mopping his forehead for the hundredth time as he watched his two charges working in silence. They both looked up expectantly at the noise and he returned them a smile. The Latin tutor, Herr Shultz, was a younger gentleman and quite friendly with the pair as long as they minded him and today he was feeling generous.

'Young sirs, you have worked well and I am pleased with your progress,' he said. 'I think that you have worked quite enough for today.'

'You mean, we can go?' Gilbert asked, his face breaking into a smile.

Their tutor nodded. 'You may finish your studies for today, but I shall set you an essay to do tonight once the cooler air comes in.'

Spirits undampened by the news of homework the boys jumped to their feet.

'Please inform His Majesty that you are free from your studies, young sirs,' the tutor said as he gathered together his papers.

'Yessir!' Gilbert said, giving Lukas a quick nudge that went unnoticed by the man whose head was still bent to the task. 'We'll tell him as soon as he's not busy.'

'Be sure that you do, young sir,' the man said with a smile as the older boy dragged the younger from the room.

'But Gilbie, His Majesty won't be free today,' Luckas hissed to his cousin as they raced along the corridor. 'Sir Frederik will want us to do some reading in the library I'm sure.'

'So?' Prussia asked, 'we're still doing as we're told, we'll tell the old man once he's free, Herr Shultz doesn't need to know that won't be till tonight.'

'Won't he find out?'

'Nah,' Gilbert smirked. 'Shultz lives in the village so he'll be long gone by the time pops is finished doing whatever it is he's busy with.' He took his cousin's arm. 'Come on, let's go grab some food from the kitchens and then go to the lake!'

~TPD~

A few hours later Gilbert and Lukas were happily paddling about Sanssouci palace's lake, their clothes and stolen food lying in the shade at the shore. Once they were thoroughly exhausted from play they waded back, dressing unhurriedly in the afternoon heat.

'Where are you going?' Neuchâtel asked his cousin has he buttoned up his shirt. The older boy had taken up their luncheon pack and was walking up along the lake shore.

'It's too hot to eat here, come on,' he said with a mischievous grin, 'I know a great place for a picnic!'

Not far away Gilbert stopped at an impressive structure; it was a large green-walled house with golden edging like a fancy cake, several gold statues of what Lukas thought were probably gods lined the edge. The entire effect was pretty spectacular in the sunlight.

'It's cool inside,' Gilbert said, pushing at an ornate glass-windowed door which opened with a slight creak.

The interior of the house was indeed cool and the pair settled themselves down on the plush seats of a set of chaise lounges to eat their fare.

Gilbert eyed his cousin suspiciously when the boy pulled out a glass bottle from the pack. 'What's that?' he asked.

Lukas grinned, waving the bottle before the older boy. 'It was in the kitchens; I recognised this from back home,' he said. 'It's called _absinthe_.' He removed the cork and took a swig, choking slightly and gasping as whatever was inside hit the back of his throat, before holding it out. 'Here, try some.'

Gilbert frowned at the bottle, unsure, but in seeing his younger cousin boldly drinking from it he felt he had no choice in snatching the drink and taking a gulp. He spluttered, dribbling some of the potent liquid, green in colour and with an aniseed taste that made him grimace.

'Like it?' Lukas asked wickedly. 'My people make it; they say your beer is like water in comparison.'

'Huh!' Gilbert said haughtily, taking another drink and trying to remain composed as the taste hit. 'I don't see what's so special about it.'

~TPD~

Frederik was in his study when a knock to the door was preceded by the entrance of Vash Zwingli.

The king smiled, standing and walking around his desk to greet the nation. 'Switzerland, what a pleasant surprise.'

'I was in the neighbourhood and heard about your troubles,' Vash said, in his smart military style. 'I thought I could help?'

Old Fritz nodded gratefully. 'Thank you, yes, with your help I can have this problem solved in half the time. We shall be finished in time for supper and then we can surprise your young sibling by your visit!'

~TPD~

The clock ticked in the dining hall as the King and his neighbour nation waited. The time was reaching a point where it bordered on impolite for his two young charges not to be present.

'I apologise,' Fritz said to Vash as a maid topped up the nation's glass for the second time. 'They are usually so punctual.'

Switzerland was trying not to look annoyed, though Fritz thought this might well be mostly directed towards the nation's brother, to whom he knew Zwingli had taught better manners. 'Perhaps they are still at their lessons?' he suggested.

'I beg your Majesty's pardon,' a butler said, entering the room and bowing gracefully to the king, 'I took the liberty of inquiring with the young master's tutor. It appears that the young masters were excused from their study in the early afternoon, Herr Shultz has not seen them since but did tell me that he had instructed them to inform you directly the lesson was finished.'

'Seems our "young masters" are in need of another lesson,' Zwingli muttered darkly.

Fritz pursed his lips together in annoyance. 'Has anyone seen them since then?' he demanded.

The butler shook his head gracefully but then looked a little apologetic. 'It was noted a few hours ago that some supplies were missing from the store, Your Majesty,' he said, 'cold cuts, some rolls, cheese and the like.'

'Enough for two delinquent's lunches?' Switzerland asked archly.

'Yes, my Lord,' the butler bowed to the man. 'Also...'

'Yes?' the king noted the servant's reluctance to continue and knew the man didn't want to speak for fear of getting his young master into more trouble. 'Speak, man, I'll discover it sooner or later, whatever it may be.'

'There was another item missing from the store, Your Majesty,' the butler said with a half-concealed grimace.

~TPD~

The sky was getting dark outside and Fritz was growing more concerned as the search continued and the boys were still missing. The lake shore had been searched, as had the woods and the farm in the grounds. The stables and their barns were distinctly lacking in two young nations.

'Perhaps they went back to the palace while we were looking?' Vash suggested, a hint of worry creeping into the man's voice. Then he frowned, cocking his head at a sound in the distance.

'Do you hear that?' he asked the king who half closed his eyes to hear the sound better. 'Aye,' he said grimly, 'I think our young truants are found.'

A real spectacle was awaiting the pair as they arrived at the tea-house and opened the doors. Gilbert, too warm thanks to the combined effects of the day and the alcohol in his system, had stripped of his waistcoat and had undone his shirt so that his chest was bare. He and his cousin were taking it in turns to sing any ribald song they knew for the other, the words unfit for dignified ears. Neuchâtel was draped over the arm of his chaise lounge, tapping a now empty bottle of absinthe against the floor in time with Prussia's song. His hair had half fallen from its stock and his eyes were glassy with drink.

'Lukas Junod, stand to attention!' Switzerland thundered. His face was red with anger and embarrassment. The song the adults had heard when approaching the tea house had been particularly risqué, and had been sung in the canton's reedy French voice.

Lucas's face lost all colour and he scrambled to his feet, dropping the bottle on the floor as if to disassociate himself from it.

'Gilbert!' Old Fritz snapped, his face tight with rage.

Prussia blinked blearily at the king but his brain had been numbed with the drink. 'Hey, old man,' he drawled.

Lukas trembled as his brother stalked up to him and grabbed an ear, shaking the boy as he shouted, 'What have you to say for yourself? I am so ashamed of you! Disappearing! Drinking! Singing such... filth!'

'You will address me properly, young man,' Frederick said to Gilbert in steely calm. 'Get to your feet, now.'

'Y'din say please,' Gilbert drawled, his detached attention on his cousin who at that moment decided that the best response to his brother's shouting was to be sick, covering his shirt front in lime-green vomit. Everyone was still in horrified silence for a moment and then Gilbert burst out into peals of unrestrained, raucous laughter.

~TPD~

Old Fritz landed in his chair with a deep sigh. Switzerland, taking initiative, poured out a large measure of schnapps from the cabinet for both of them and offered one to the king. 'I apologise for my younger brother's appalling behaviour, Majesty,' he offered, his anger still clearly visible on his face. 'He has never been so wilfully disobedient before.'

King Frederick shook his head, ignoring the drink in his hand. 'I'm afraid it is my error. Gilbert can be wild at times and I am sure that he was as much if not more to blame.'

'Needless to say, Majesty, that I shall teach the boy a lesson he shall soon regret,' Zwingli said, shaking his hand the held the glass so much that a little spilt over. 'Though I wonder where I might find the appropriate implement at such a time.'

'Might I inquire how it is you chastise your brother?' Frederick asked. 'I know that my letters have told you it has been necessary twice since he arrived for me to be directly involved in his "education".

Zwingly smiled a tight smile. 'I have always found that a lesson taught with a set of birch twigs never goes astray,' he said.

Fritz tried not to show his distaste for the implement. 'I have found myself that the cane is just as effective.'

'I think that Lukas may disagree on that front, Majesty,' Zwingly said with a wry smile.

'Perhaps we should test that theory,' King Frederick said. 'My boy has wronged you more than I and I believe a dose of medicine from another's viewpoint might help in his education. As for young Lukas, he is under my care whilst in my house; I think a reminder from myself as to the rules is in order.'

Switzerland thought about this carefully for a few moments. 'You mean that we should both chastise the boys as we would if they were our own?' he asked.

Old Fritz gave a small nod. 'For such insolent behaviour and outright disobedience I would make sure that Gilbert felt at least a dozen strokes,' he said. 'That being said, Lukas is younger and least used to such a method and so I believe six strokes would be more than adequate to carry the message.'

'If my brother were in my care he would receive six strokes of the birch,' Zwingly mused. 'But Gilbert being that much older and arguably wiser, I would think nine strokes sufficient.' He nodded. 'As for the foul language and insolence, a bar of soap will wash such things away.'

'In that, we are in agreement,' Fritz said with a small, unhappy smile.

~TPD~

The two boys had been left in the care of the maids whilst their mentor's conversation was continuing. They had been bathed and given a medicine which had set them both to vomiting copiously. Then they were thrust into nightshirts and a small meal of bread and butter put before them which they ate miserably and with some effort. After this they were put to bed, the tight-lipped maids showing their disapproval at their young lord's conduct.

Morning came far too early for both boys, the curtains being pulled back swiftly by an unsympathetic butler. Once they had been ushered into their clothes both boys were herded miserably towards their respective dooms. Gilbert caught sight of Neuchâtel as they made their way down the corridor but the boy ignored him miserably, his red and dark rimmed eyes telling the older nation that the young canton had spent as much a restless night as he.

Gilbert expected to be led into his master's study as was usual on such occasions but found instead that the butler led him to one of the parlours used for guests of the palace. The butler left him at the door, giving him a stern nod before departing.

Swallowing nervously, Gilbert tried to organise his thoughts around a thrumming headache, not knowing whether the sickness he felt was from nerves or an after-effect of the _verdammt_ absinthe. He raised his hand, knocking as boldly and as loudly as his hangover would allow.

'Enter.'

Gilbert pushed open the door and was halfway through his first sentence before his brain registered that the voice hadn't been his boss's at all.

'Listen, Old Man, I know what I did was stupid but-'

'On that, we most certainly agree,' Zwingly said, turning to face the boy from his position beside the parlour window.

'Hey, Switzy,' Prussia said in surprise, 'oh, I think the butlers must have mixed us up, I'll go find Lucas...'

'They certainly have not made any error,' Vash said, cutting the boy short and halting him with his hand on the door knob. 'Your guardian the King has asked me to deal with you in regard to yesterday's incident, as he feels it was I whom you most wronged.' His blue eyes piercing Gilbert's own grey, the man stepped forwards. 'Although I agreed to his request, I do not believe that this was the case, do you?'

'Deal with me?' Prussia asked suspiciously, knowing that had it been his boss in the room he would already be bent over at the desk being thoroughly "dealt with". He didn't like the glint in Switzerland's eye and now began to regret his "Switzy" remark earlier.

'Certainly,' Vash raised his eyebrows questioningly, 'unless you think your behaviour yesterday was in any way excusable?'

'Well no, but-'

'Disobeying your tutor's instruction?'

'Well, he said-' Gilbert began, grasping at his one hope but being waved to silence by the blonde nation.

'You are about to argue that you would have told his Majesty when he was free that you were excused from lessons?'

'Exactly!'

'And no suitable substitute could be found then? Or where you concerned perhaps that your free time might be impeded by some chore or another, should the King know of it?'

Gilber swallowed, unable to meet the nation's glare, knowing he had been caught out in his deception.

'After this you decided not to inform anyone of your whereabouts and, judging by the state of your attire, swim in the lake, which unless I am mistaken, you are only permitted to do under supervision.'

Prussia pursed his lips stubbornly. 'It was hot!'

'So hot that you could not have spared the time to advise an adult of your whereabouts?'

Gilbert clamped his mouth shut and glared at the ground, he had no answer for that.

Vash sighed, turning from the boy and pacing slowly around the room like a lawyer reading out a list of the condemned's crimes. 'I don't think we need touch on the theft of food and alcohol from the palace kitchens; one could argue that as a resident of this palace they were yours to take,' he stopped and shot the boy a look, 'though we both know that in itself is a falsehood.' Resuming his pacing the man clasped his hands behind his back, tapping them gently together. 'As for the drinking I think that in itself was its own punishment and I am sure that you know that any more such offences shall be met severely. The language and in particular the manner in which you addressed your lord,' he caught Gilbert's wince and gave a small smile. 'Yes, I think you know how much you hurt his Majesty with _that_ little display.'

Prussia hung his head and blushed in real shame. To be lectured in such a way by the older nation was humiliating in itself, not to mention the fact that he was _right_.

Vash stopped before the boy and surveyed him for a moment, then he sighed, shaking his head. 'Let's get this over with then.'

Prussia's head shot up. 'You- you're really going to punish me?' he asked, trying to keep the squeak out of his voice.

Vash straightened, tilting his chin up but said nothing.

Gilbert kept his eyes on the man for as long as he was able and then looked away, biting his lip in regret. 'It because he's angry with me, isn't it?'

'Not with you,' Vash said with a shake of his head. 'But I believe that his Majesty wishes your punishment to be dealt out in a more... impartial manner.'

'You mean if he had my backside right now then it would be toast?' Prussia said glumly.

Vash crooked an eyebrow. 'An odd way to put it but yes, I believe that the insult is still too raw for his Majesty to deal with you with an even temper. But do not mistake that for anger towards you, it is your actions which have angered him, not you yourself who has caused him such ire.'

'I don't understand,' Gilbert frowned.

'I shall leave you to reflect upon the matter,' Vash said sternly, crossing to a sideboard where a bunch of bound twigs had been resting unnoticed by the boy til now.

Prussia's face lost all colour as he realised what the implement was. As Switzerland swished the birch through the air its branches made a dreadful cutting noise. 'Y-you... y-your not...' Gilbert stammered and then stopped, wide eyed. Lucas had told him about his older brother's preferred method of discipline, this shouldn't have been a surprise. He dragged his gaze away from the implement, now being held expectantly in Vash's hand, and breathed out lowly, stepping forwards with forced calm.

Vash took a chair that sat to the side of the room and pulled it to the centre, facing it's back toward the boy. 'Lean over this and take hold of the arms,' he directed.

Eternally thankful that he was allowed to keep his breeches on, Gilbert stumbled to quickly obey.

~TPD~

Neuchâtel stared in horror at the King of Prussia, his eyes welling up with guilty tears. 'Vostra Maestà,' he stammered, trying to dig out the Italian from within his reeling brain.

'You may speak in German or French today, Lucas,' Old Fritz said grimly, 'I believe you will have enough to think about besides.'

Swallowing hard and with the tears nearly brimming over his wide eyes, Lucas stepped forwards. 'Sir it was all my fault!' he said, his little hands balling into earnest fists. 'I was the one who took the Absinthe from the parlour!'

'Oh? And were you the one to suggest that you dissappear for the afternoon without telling anyone your whereabouts?' Old Fritz asked, cocking an eyebrow at the canton.

Lucas bit his lip, knowing he could not lie to the king, even if he really wanted to take the whole blame. He shook his head minutely.

'And were you the one who suggested an unsupervised swim in the lake?'

Another small shake of the blonde locks and a few tears trickled down Neuchâtel's cheeks.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered.

'I have no doubt that you are,' Frederik said coolly. 'Your behaviour was appalling.'

Lucas flinched. 'Is mon frère really mad at me?'

'Oh, quite mad,' Fritz said, his expression stern, 'but at your choices and actions, not you yourself.'

Lucas sniffed. 'Are you mad at me, sir?'

The King couldn't help a small smile at the boy but he kept his eyes creased in a frown. 'You think I ought to be?'

'Oui, Monseur! I am your guest!' Lucas bust out. 'I lied and stole and acted so badly!' He hung his head. 'I... I understand if you want to send me away.'

The room was silent for a long time and Lucas could only sniff back his tears as he waited for the command to go and pack up his bags and leave on the first available carriage.

'I'm not going to send you away, Lucas.'

The boy's relief was palpable; his shoulders sagged and he sniffed even louder as tears threatened to overwhelm him.

Old Fritz came forwards, bending on one knee before the boy and taking his shoulders in his hands. 'Lucas, you are always welcome here, whatever mad stunt Gilbert might drag you into. But have you learnt something from this little episode?'

Lucas raised his eyes to meet his Boss's and took a deep sniff, nodding. 'I disrespected your hospitality and I was disobedient. I'm sorry, sir.'

Friederik nodded firmly. 'Apology accepted,' he said, rising to his feet and walking away towards his study desk. 'Lucas, I asked your brother to carry out Gilbert's punishment in my place in return for my punishing you. I want you to understand this is because I care about you as greatly as I do Gilbert. Just because you are part of another great nation does not make you any less my ward, my responsibility.' Old Fritz withdrew the cane from its drawer and tapped it lightly on his hand. 'That also means that I am going to punish you as I would Gilbert in this situation, making adjustments for age of course.'

Neuchâtel swallowed audibly as the implement was revealed but faced the King bravely. 'I'm ready, sir,' he said in a quavering voice.

'Very well,' Fritz said, striding around the desk and nodding towards a settee on the side. The thing was an antique, with rolling padded sides just right for cushioning a small boy in need of chastisement. Lucas needed no bidding and took his place without comment, pulling a cushion into his arms and burying his face in it as he heard Frederik pace around behind him. Fritz smiled at the action, letting the boy have that small comfort in the face of the next few moments. He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous, but steeled himself against the cries he knew would shortly come from his young ward.


	6. Chapter 6

Vash raised the birches in the air, his face set into an impassive frown as he brought the twigs down hard on Gilbert's backside. SWISH, THWIP!

Surprised by the unexpected sensation Gilbert's head shot up and he gave a cut off yelp, his hands gripping the chair handles tightly as his feet kicked upwards in reaction to the thousand needles that suddenly stung the entire surface of his bottom.

SWISH, CRACK!

Lucas yelled, his head lifting from the pillow and his eyes scrunched tight as the burning stripe rippled along the roundest part of his backside, the pain shockingly localised to that fine, fiery line. He dug his fingers hard into the pillow and howled through the next one, this time right on the crease were his bottom and thighs met.

SWISH, THWIP!

Gilbert whimpered, the stinging becoming a hot, horrible burn like a nettle rash all across his rear and the top of his thighs. Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes and he pressed them closed to try to fight them, knowing he would die of shame if the older nation were to see him cry.

SWISH, CRACK!

The fourth stroke fell on Neuchâtel's thighs, making him kick his legs and squirm uncontrollably as he bawled out his pain into the pillow. Indistinguishable words of remorse came out in a babbled mess but he stopped when a calming hand rested on his back.

'I will continue when you are calm, _Kleiner_,' Frederik's voice was gentle but firm and he waited patiently as the little canton settled.

'You are bearing this well,' Gilbert heard Vash saying over the sound of the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears. 'You have already taken more than half of your punishment.'

The words, meant to encourage, only served to panic Prussia more. _Five strokes already and only half way to the end?! Who could bear such a monstrous ordeal?_ With a glup of resignation, Gilbert caved in, gasping his right arm with his left hand and cradling his head in the crook of his arm as he began to sob.

Lucas drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, repeating the action several times until he felt himself calming. He let his muscles relax and lowered his legs, his body still once more aside from the hiccups of his remaining tears.

'Well done, _Junger_,' Frederik's voice said above him. There was a pregnant pause and then...

SWISH, CRACK!

SWISH, CRACK!

The last two strokes came fast after each other, giving the boy no time in between. This came as a blessing as well as a shock for the poor canton who collapsed into a stuttering heap onto the settee, fresh tears gushing. He felt himself being lifted and held, his sore bottom resting gently against a leg whilst arms wrapped him up in an embrace. He clutched the King's collar, weeping uncontrollably into it and trying not to squirm at the throbbing pain in his backside. Old Fritz patted the child's shoulder and whispered replies to the babble of apologies that flowed out of the youngster as rapidly as his tears.

SWISH, THWIP!

Gilbert shook at the stroke, not even knowing what number it was in the endless torment. He whimpered softly, his tears all shed, his legs only jerking a little to the pain, completely broken. Vash had covered his rear from tail to the backs of his knees and Gilbert wondered if he would ever grow back the skin he felt had been flayed right off him with the vicious little twigs.

He heard a little sigh behind him and wondered what was running through Switzerland's mind as he lay there; humiliated, broken and utterly miserable.

SWISH, **THWIP!**

Gilbert howled so hard he thought that he might summon all the soldiers in the army to the room, the last hard stroke worse than any before it. In the blurriness of his tear-streaked vision he saw Vash standing to the side of his chair, reaching out and holding his shoulders, helping him to his feet. Prussia stood unsteadily, moaning and sniffling into his sleeves as he tried his hardest to control his emotions. After a second in which he felt rather than saw the older nation hesitate, he was wrapped up in a rough hug which he sank into gratefully despite his pride which stung as much as his poor backside.

After a long pause where the only sounds in the room were his stifled sniffles and Switzerland's gentle shushing, Vash pulled away.

'This isn't over, _Gör_,' he said, kindness in the tone. Prussia, his heart sinking, let himself be led away, out into the hallway and along the corridor, trying hard not to let his pained limp show.

Lucas looked up when he heard the door to the scullery open and then away again in embarrassment as he saw his cousin and even worse, his brother, enter. He sat on a hard wood stool, clearly in a great deal of discomfort but unwilling to squirm too much in fear most likely of further reprimand.

The scullery held a long marble sink where the palace kitchen boys cleaned dishes and pans, large wooden slats were placed before them, tall enough for the boys - usually eleven or twelve years of age - to reach the sink. Massive copper pots shone brightly from the walls and a fire at one end crackled, turning the room muggy in the summer heat.

Vash directed Gilbert to another stool, sharing a businesslike nod with King Frederik who had turned from where he had been standing, admiring the window's view when they had entered.

'Boys,' he began as Gilbert took his place, steadfastly ignoring his boss as his cheeks burnt with shame. 'Yesterday Herr Zwingli and I were disgusted by the coarse language and foul innuendo that we were witness to prior to your discovery. You have so far been punished for your lies and misdeeds, now you shall face the consequences of your unpleasant manner. Before you both is a bar of soap, large enough to wash your mouths clean. With any hope it will reach your minds for by the sounds of some of the lyrics in your songs-,' Fritz paused, letting the boy's discomfort grow at the idea of what they had done, '-they are also in sore need of cleansing.'

'You will each take your soap and lather it, then place it in the cups before you,' Vash said calmly. 'You see they both contain water. You will rinse your mouths with this soap water – not forgetting to gargle of course – until there is none left.'

Cheeks flaming red Gilbert nodded, tears of regret pricking at the corners of his eyes. He winced, standing from his stool and walking to the sink. Eyeing the soap and the mug in displeasure he took the hateful bar up and soaped it well, knowing a half hearted effort at this stage would lead to painful consequences. He saw his young cousin step up beside him and heard the sniffing as the boy tried in vain to hold back more tears. Dropping the soap into the cup Prussia took it up, gritting his teeth before taking a bold swig, sloshing the nasty mixture around his mouth with as much bravado-born gusto as he could manage. When he could bear it no longer he spat, coughing at the taste and chocking a little as bubbles popped in his throat. There was an eruption beside him and Neuchâtel half vomited his mouthful into the sink, spluttering and coughing, the water had gone up his nose and his eyes ran fast with tears of a mixture of pain and embarrassed guilt of his actions.

Another swig and Gilbert had drained his cup, finally spitting out the liquid and gasping, his own eyes filled with tears. He didn't dare rinse until his boss gave him leave though and waited in silence until Lucas was finished, both turning to the adults in hope of a swift reprieve.

King Frederik nodded at the task well done, his face impassive. 'Take up your bars of soap,' he said to the disbelieving boys, 'place them in your mouths and then sit back on the stools.'

Neuchâtel broke into tears, rubbing his hands miserably over his eyes. Gilbert bit his lip in shame, knowing that the majority of this had been his fault. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder, picking up the soap and placing it in his hands, giving his cousin an encouraging smile and quick wink which went unnoticed or at least unmentioned by the two adults. Sniffing bravely Lucas nodded, his lips curved down in a mournful grimace as he made his way back to the stool and scrambled up, yelping at the renewed pain in his back end.

Turning back to the soap Gilbert snatched it up, determined now to act brave for his cousin's sake. He bit down on his tongue as he sat back on the hard stool, trying to make the move seem relaxed even though inside he was screaming and bawling like a five year old. He hesitated for a barely noticeable second before putting the soap in his mouth.

The minutes ticked by in agonisingly uncomfortable silence. Prussia tried not to wriggle but was finding it increasingly difficult to remain stoic. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Lucas had started to cry again in earnest, the tears silent but utterly wretched. He felt the same way, his body trembling with the effort to keep his emotions in check.

Ten minutes passed before Vash spoke. 'Lucas, you may remove the soap and rinse your mouth.'

Lucas leapt from the stool, spitting the soap into the sink and pumping the sinks handle furiously to get the water to wash out his foam-filled mouth. When he was done Vash headed towards the door, instructing his young brother to follow him.

Gilbert shifted uncomfortably but to his credit waited until the door had closed behind Neuchâtel before he let the first of several sniffling whimpers escape his lips.

It was a few more minutes before King Frederik spoke.

'Gilbert, you may rinse your mouth.'

Rising unsteadily from the stool Gilbert eased himself slowly over to the sink and tried to spit out the soap, but found it stuck to his tongue! He scraped the offending material from his tongue, pawing at it in between pumping his water and eventually holding his head under the tap to gargle the water straight from the spout.

When he was done he straightened but did not face his boss.

'Gilbert,' Old Fritz said quietly and the boy flinched.

Gilbert did not respond, merely holding onto the sink's edge and keeping his head bowed.

'Gilbert,' his king repeated, the tone a little more forceful.

Prussia drew in a long sniff. 'Old man?' he asked, his voice quavering as he finally turned and looked up at his boss, his eyes filled with regret and fear.

The King blinked back surprise and then his expression softened and he spread his arms wide, a gentle smile on his face.

His ward rushed forwards, wrapping his arms around the man and hugging him tightly, tears running anew down his face and onto the king's shirtfront. He didn't speak but simply cried out all of his remorse as Old Fritz gently caressed his silver head.

'I disappointed you,' Prussia said when his tears has slowed to a trickle.

'I'll get over it,' Old Fritz chuckled stroking the head and giving his shoulders a reassuring squeeze. 'As will you, _Bose_.'

When Gilbert's tears were done with he stayed with his head buried in his mentor's shirtfront, treasuring the comfort he felt after the lonliness of his earlier punishment. He shivered,

remembering the wicked sting of the birch twigs.

'Are you cold?' Fritz asked in concern; the room was stiflingly hot thanks to the fire.

Gilbert shook his head. 'Please,' he mumbled.

'Hmm?'

The young teen blushed furiously. 'Please don't let Switzerland punish me again.'

Frederik frowned, he looked down at the boy and tilted up his head, his fingers under the boy's chin. 'Did he hurt you very badly?' he asked, shocked that the man would have been so cruel.

Gilbert shook his head, pushing it into his boss's chest once more. 'He wasn't you,' he said quietly.

'You'd prefer that I would punish you?'

Gilbert nodded minutely. '...and your cane,' he said, the words almost lost in the folds of Frederik's shirt.

Fritz could have laughed. 'I see,' he said, pulling the boy close, 'were the birches worse than my cane.'

'Lots worse!' Prussia said earnestly, staring up at the king with his defiant red eyes. 'It was awful!'

'Hmm, perhaps I ought to consider it, seeing as it has left such an impression on you,' the king suggested in mock deliberation.

'No!' Gilbert said, more commanding than he had leave to be, and quickly followed it with a whining, 'please.'

'I think I'll stick to my cane,' Frederik said with a smile. 'I wouldn't know how to make one anyone, since Herr Vash burned his.'

'He did?'

Old Fritz nodded kindly. 'But don't you worry, _Kleiner_, my cane is ready and waiting, should the need arise.' He laughed lightly as Gilbert ducked his head in embarrassment. 'Now, I suggest you go and rest in your chambers for a while. I instructed the staff to draw your curtains and it will be wonderfully cool just now. Once you are awake we shall eat lunch together. What do you say to a picnic? By the lake?'

'Really?!' Gilbert asked incredulously. 'What about our lessons?' he didn't want to bring up the subject of lessons but after yesterday's disaster was not taking chances.

'I admire your eagerness,' the king said with humour, 'but to make you and your cousin sit on a hardwood bench for hours after such chastisement is beyond the necessity of your punishment. Besides,' Fritz stepped back a little, giving the boy some space. 'I would be grateful for a swim in the lake. I assume it is quite refreshing in this weather?'

Gilbert had the good graces to blush once more as he ducked his head in a nod.

'Good,' Frederik manoeuvred the boy toward the door and gave him a gentle shove, 'so now get to your bed.'

'Um...' Prussia stopped as if suddenly remembering something. 'Do we still have those bathing suits that the Englander's wear?' he asked nervously.

This time Frederik did not restrain his laughter. 'Don't worry, Junger, we'll find something for you boys to dress in to cover those naughty bottoms of yours.'

'Alte!' Utterly embarrassed again Gilbert rushed out of the room, followed by his boss's peals of laughter. But quietly he smiled to himself, everything was back to how it had been and the boy knew he had been forgiven.

-TPD-

Later that day Vash watched as the King of Prussia and his ward splashed in the lake behind the palace. Beside him and resting against his hip, lay Lucas, sleeping despite his earlier nap thanks to the warm weather and good food. Vash smiled benevolently at the boy. Despite being harsh on the child he enjoyed the warmer side of their relationship and was glad that the hard part of his parental role was over for now. Lucas had forgiven him, for both his role in punishing Gilbert – whom Lucas looked up to as a dubious role model – and for letting Frederik loose with his _malin canne_ as the boy referred to the implement as. He had been made to promise faithfully to speak with Frederik about never using it again, even extracting a small confession from the boy that he thought the birches preferable. Vash shook his head in wonder. The child dozed in the sunlight, a small smile on his face, and Switzerland leant back against his rest, closing his eyes in peaceful sleep.


End file.
